


Banal Sentimentality

by LadyLuckDoubt



Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: M/M, Phoenix Wright Kink Meme, Prison, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Valentine's Day, rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLuckDoubt/pseuds/LadyLuckDoubt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Valentine's Day fic! Any scenario -- straight-up romantic date, awkward will they/won't they shenanigans, blind dates and hilarious cases of mistaken identity, dysfunctional relationships and arguments, grief over lost lovers, crack where a character is the god/goddess of love... the sky's the limit!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The trick: it has to be a pairing you love and feel like you're either mostly alone in shipping or you just don't see written very often. Your personal underdog OTPs!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I hope this inspires people to give rarepairs some love <3</i>
</p><p>That was the request, and for awhile there, it seemed to spawn heated debate about what constituted "rarepair." I figured that no one would EVER accuse Kristoph/Matt of being "too mainstream," and since I love the pairing and don't really get much of a chance to write fluff about their relationship in <i>The Rapist</i>, I'd do so there. (And I think even <i>that</i> spawned wank elsewhere. Oh, fandom...) </p><p>Anyway, yes. Have some V-Day fluff, Matt-and-Kristoph style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Banal Sentimentality

"I used to get flowers."   
  
Matt Engarde voice cracks as though somehow that's the worst thing he's endured in the last seven years. His voice shakes and quivers, and he ignores the sniff from the bunk above him.  
  
"I used to get fucken  _flowers_ , dude, I used to have all these girls  _throwing themselves at me_. I once came back to my dressing room and there were these two naked chicks just waiting in my bed for me--"  
  
This is the point where Kristoph coughs. His voice is typical cool monotone though Matt can tell there's that snide, cold, unimpressed suggestion in there.  _Good. I've made him_ jealous.  
  
"Why do you think this interests me?" he asks. "If it's a means of demonstrating that you're more heterosexual than me, then I feel we established that fact months ago-- and if you are trying to make me jealous, it isn't working."   
  
Perhaps Matt is hurt. Slightly. "I was just  _telling you_ , dude." It's not often that he feels comfortable enough to talk about the perks of fame with just about anyone in this hellhole. Most of these guys want him dead because he was famous, without knowing about all the glorious perks which came with it. The one thing which ever meant anything about Matt Engarde now doesn't count for shit.  
  
He trusts Kristoph enough to know he can talk about his past and his identity, well, his former identity now-- and he knows Kristoph isn't going to react like the rest of them. But when he hears the unmistakable sound of a page turning; perhaps Kristoph isn't  _listening_ \-- he is compelled to engage him again.  
  
"What did  _you_  get, on the outside, for Valentines' Day?"   
  
He's rewarded with a snort. "I'm beyond such banal sentimentality," he says.   
  
This time it's Matt who's unimpressed. "Liar," he says quietly.   
  
Kristoph sighs in an exaggerated fashion. "Why humanity needs some sort of special day for affectionate gestures towards loved ones is beyond my grasp," he says. "Why reserve one day for such behaviour when if you're  _truly_  concerned about someone and you feel affection for them, you could be demonstrating that daily?"  
  
"You used that argument on someone you were dating, didn't you?" Matt asks. He chuckles under his breath, not sure whether it's funny because it's true, or because the idea of Kristoph doing something as ordinary as dating someone is hilarious, or if it's a laughter streaked with nerves and he's scared of the reaction.  
  
"As you're aware-- I wasn't dating anyone. I don't  _do_  dates."  
  
"So V-Day was always a time of bitterness and regret, for you, was it?"  
  
"I never said I was living a life of celibacy, Engarde."   
  
From the bottom bunk, Matt looks up, pausing, even though he can't see the figure above him. "What's that?" he asks.   
  
"There's a dictionary on the floor, in case you haven't noticed it."  
  
Reaching down to grab it, Matt suddenly pauses again. "When did this get in here?" he asks carefully.  
  
" _I_  brought it in." Kristoph doesn't sound impressed. "Might I assure you that it was from the  _library_ \-- deKiller hasn't been tampering with it, it's not some part of some elaborate conspiracy to bring about your demise, Engarde."   
  
"So why did  _you_  borrow it? You know everything, dude. You don't need a dictionary."  
  
"Have a look what's underneath it."  
  
Matt doesn't question, but an audible gasp escapes him when he notices the book beneath the hardcover dictionary. Suddenly, he has realised, and from the top bunk, putting down his copy of  _Atlas Shrugged_ , Kristoph smiles to himself, awaiting Engarde's verbal reaction. He's all actor, he can't  _not_  respond.

"You remembered," Matt says in a breath he can't quite contain. "When we were talking a few weeks ago, just after you got moved in here from Solitary-- when I asked what you liked reading and you said Shakespeare and I started talking about how I always wanted to do Shakespeare but I could never land serious roles because I was a character actor because of  _Samurai_ , and then I said that I didn't even get what they were talking about half the time anyway and--"  
  
"You're waffling, Engarde."  
  
" _Thankyou_." Pulling the books up onto the bed with him, he sits up, to lift himself and turn around, half-climbing to look his roommate in the eye. "That was... really nice... dude."  
  
Adjusting his glasses and watching with interest, Kristoph can't help but smile. Engarde always thrived on flattery. Show him the barest suggestion of acknowledgement, and he becomes animated. It reminds him of times gone by.   
  
He doesn't say anything, and Matt is compelled to. "I owe you."   
  
"For finding a couple of books in the library?" Kristoph raises an eyebrow. "Perhaps I was doing that out of a misguided idea that you would spend your cell time being quiet and  _reading_  rather than  _talking_."  
  
But Matt's not convinced. "If you'd wanted that, you would have filched pornos from Stickler."  
  
"Why would I knowingly introduce contraband into this cell?" he asks. "Wouldn't that be just unnecessarily asking for trouble?"  
  
"That ceramic nail file of yours is contraband," Matt points out. "And they're tougher on weapons than porn." He realises something. "And if you were telling the truth, you'd have made a snide comment about not wanting to touch anything that Stickler might have handled."  
  
There's a strange silence between the two of them and Matt retreats to the bottom bunk. "Romantic," he sniffs once he's lying on his stomach and he's opened the volume of  _Othello_  and when he thinks his voice is sufficiently muffled.  
  
"I heard that."   
  
There's another silence, and Matt starts reading to himself; he's skipped the introduction; he's more comfortable with scripts than chunks of text. He's not expecting Kristoph to say anything else.  
  
"I never said that I wasn't, by the way."  
  
His voice comes from the other side of the bed, and when he glances up, he can see part of Kristoph's face and a rope of blonde hair which must have once looked like something from an expensive shampoo ad.   
  
He's not sure if it's flattering or creepy.  
  
"Wasn't  _what_?"  
  
But Kristoph has returned to his position on the bed, his face out of range and invisible. "A romantic. I just said that I detested the notion of there being one day a year when people engaged in sexual relations are encouraged to show affection for one another when they should-- or  _could_ \-- be doing that every day. With no need for commercialism and manufactured sentiment."   
  
"So what did you get, then?" Matt asks, "If you believe every day should be Valentine's Day? If that's what you're saying-- no special treatment on February 14th because you got it all the time, right?" Its as though he can hear the cogs turning in his head. His voice darkens. "And what were  _you_  giving that  _special someone_?"  
  
"As I stated before, I wasn't dating."  
  
"Of course not, dude." Perhaps Matt's heart's racing because some part of him has shifted. People who dated celebrities were usually so showy about it unless they were in the industry themselves, and usually they were as neurotic and fucked up as you were. But Kristoph was different: there was self-assured discretion and understated elegance about the way he managed himself.   
  
If Matt had liked dudes back then, he could have  _so_  been involved with Kristoph Gavin. He was a hot lawyer back then, wasn't he?

And one thing he likes is the push-and-pull and the semantic games. "So, if you weren't dating, what were you doing?"  
  
"Sculpting and invigorating and educating a beautiful mind into becoming the ultimate force to be reckoned with in a courtroom." Matt can hear bitter the smile in his statement. He's still proud of his accomplishments. Even if those accomplishments became his downfall.  
  
"And what were they doing for  _you_?"   
  
"Learning things. Demonstrating that knowledge. Obeying me. It was the perfect relationship, really."  
  
"You have a weird idea of perfect relationships." Matt's voice falters for a moment. "So... he did this... and... where's the sex, dude?"  
  
"I never mentioned a lack of sex, did I? Perhaps there are some things I do not find it appropriate to disclose."  
  
"Perhaps you shouldn't have been banging your assistant."  
  
"Really, Engarde-- now you're just being vulgar."   
  
"I'm just  _saying_ \--" he whines, and perhaps there's something in that whine which sounds like it could be concern. Or regret.   
  
Kristoph decides to change the subject. "I did nothing untoward and which wasn't wanted," he says quietly. "Some people merely need to be told what to do-- they thrive on complying with orders from a trusted superior." There's the insinuation, and his voice changes to melted butter. "Surely,  _Matt_ , you, having been an actor, having made a fortune from essentially doing what others  _told you to do_ , would understand that."  
  
Matt says nothing in response, and Kristoph continues.  
  
"After all, it was your own misguided free will which lead to the situation which saw you, well... sent here."  
  
"That was the  _lawyer_ ," Matt sniffs angrily. He's not sure whether he's fascinated or terrified with the way this conversation's going. Kristoph is right about so much, and it's unnerving the way he just seems to... see through people. He's been in a room with him for a couple of weeks-- what  _else_  has he figured out that Matt's not aware of yet?   
  
Then again-- he  _trusts_  him...  _right_?   
  
"You don't like lawyers, hmmm?"  
  
"I don't like  _that_  lawyer."  
  
Reclining on the bed again, Kristoph stretches, picking up his book again. He knows exactly which lawyer Engarde is going to mention. But he needs to draw out the suspense, and he knows that.  
  
"You'll have to tell me about this lawyer sometime," he says. "I've known some rather difficult lawyers myself-- having been one."  
  
Matt's grateful for what sounds like respite from the conversation. Rolling back over onto his stomach, now convinced that Kristoph's not watching and he can read in peace, he returns to  _Othello_ , dictionary propped up next to him in case he needs it. He smiles at the thought. This is the first time someone's done something  _nice_  in here for him, with no... expectation or weirdness.  
  
"Hey, Gavin--" he murmurs before losing himself in the words-- smiling as he tries to imagine Kristoph's face-- "Happy Valentine's Day."


End file.
